


all we are is skin and bone

by sumaru



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A Whole Lot Of Crest Nonsense, Blood, Erotic Annihilation, Gore, M/M, Sexy Cannibalism, Some Dragon Traits, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/pseuds/sumaru
Summary: The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was won through the tradition of sword and blood.But there are some blood traditions much older.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24
Collections: 2020 Dimilix Exchange





	all we are is skin and bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donocho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donocho/gifts).



> Please be aware that it is exactly what it says on the tin!

“And let the Goddess give her blessings unto sword and shield, may they protect her holy kingdom until the eternal fires take it or the world ends.”

Dimitri’s heart thunders at the Archbishop’s words. “I am your sword until the world ends, Felix.”

“And I, your shield,” Felix recites in turn and _oh_ , the small smile that even the whole of Faerghus looking upon them could not steal from him. The setting sun in the grand hall of Fhirdiad crowns Felix in gold, the braid of Blaiddyd blue weaved through his wedding cloak undiminished even in this lurid red light. He is beautiful, a blade forged for himself, now given to Dimitri to wield as he sees fit.

Dimitri loves him. Will love him until the world ends.

“Until the world ends,” Felix finishes, eyes dark even in all that golden light.

There are many wedding traditions in Faerghus.

Some come from the field of battle from which the kingdom won her crown, when Kyphon’s blood spilled across the dirt at Loog’s feet and woke him to the full of his fury. Under Byleth’s distant gaze, Dimitri gives the symbolic dagger hilted in blood-stained leather to Felix, and receives his in turn. There are thunderous cheers from the crowds gathered at the tall open windows, as the word spills into the streets that the two greatest houses of Faerghus have joined together to cut a new path. Some would say it is a formality, that Blaiddyd and Fraldarius have always been joined in blood, but:

Some blood traditions are older than even the kingdom.

“There will be no witnessing of the wedding night.” It is not a request. Dimitri stands before his council of nobles and takes note of who assents, who recoils from a break in even this most tasteless of rituals.

At his side, he feels Byleth nod in support; the minute shifting of Dedue’s weight at his other is both comfort and knowing. They did not win a war together only to continue down a path that takes them back the way they came. As with Loog and Kyphon before him, Dimitri means to turn the bloodied earth over so that something new may grow here, in this frozen land.

“But you would keep this one instead,” Felix grouses.

The grand hall has filled with the crowd, nobles and commoners and the children of both, orphans of the war who have been taken in under Fhirdiad’s colours. Warmth from the candles and the press of bodies heats the air to a balmy summer haze, even as the season turns chill with the changing of the leaves, red and resplendent shadows spilling over through the windows, and though Dimitri loves to see the cheer of so many of his people, he feels the onset of a headache from the lengthy day. A weight of expectations sits in his chest; aches in the deep center of his hands, a strange feeling that crawls down his spine.

But still: Felix is lovely in the colours of a king’s consort and has permitted Dimitri the indignity of a consort’s first dance.

“Some traditions are worth keeping,” Dimitri smiles. In keeping with the old Adrestian style from which it came, the consort’s dance shows a considerable amount of leg.

“Don’t give me that.” Felix frowns, eyes flitting down. “You also have to dance that ridiculous dance.”

Dimitri takes Felix’s hand in his. “What burdens my people bear, I will gladly bear with them, too.”

Heat. Bodies. Blood thrumming in his bones like an unbearable itch. Horns of war turned to merriment as they keep Dimitri’s pace, leading Felix across the cleared path that goes from the grand hall to the royal family’s wing. He can feel the thousands of eyes upon him and there — fear, anger, it catches him by surprise as it flares at the hollow of his back, a hot rage that wants nothing more than to sweep Felix up and carry him away to where none can see him like this, legs bared, skin gleaming in the candle glow. Even like this, clad in Dimitri’s colours for all the world to see.

An animal instinct older than the world itself.

“We take our leave now, beloved,” Dimitri growls, hands tightening about Felix’s waist, shock painting Felix’s face as he looks at Dimitri. Maybe Dimitri should be alarmed. Maybe he should question how he can feel the nip of his teeth cutting into his lip as he speaks, smelling heady of copper, but all he wants now is Felix, just Felix, shielded from everything and everyone.

“What has gotten into you!” 

Dimitri had not even let Felix walk the last passing of the halls to his bedchambers, had carried Felix as one would a blushing bride before all but throwing him against the pile of furs and pillows that cover the bed. He sucks in a breath, bewildered. Time lost and folded in so that its only meaning is Felix here, glaring at him, silks and capelet askew. Legs bare, delicious. Throat pale and vulnerable and his for the taking.

“Hey, Dimitri!” Candlelight softens the harshness of Felix’s gaze. It is pointed at Dimitri’s own throat. “Is it— is it another headache?”

He feels a little lost by the blood pounding in his ears, in his teeth. “I want you, Felix.”

Felix snorts. “Well, I should hope so.”

“No, no, Felix,” Dimitri moans, falling on Felix like he is his prey, and his alone. “Like this,” Dimitri groans, biting down on the beautiful red pulse of Felix’s throat, feels his entire world shift with it.

There is an old myth, buried in the half-torn books that litter the shelves in the Abyss library. Dimitri has read through them before, what feels like a lifetime ago, looking for the right clues to unlock the mysteries of the Tragedy of Duscur; and then again, when he had been lost those five terrible years, somehow finding his way there to be tended to by thieves with more honour than kings. 

It is this: that the blood of the first Blaiddyd and the first Fraldarius was that of dragons, and that their deep hunger and long years was that of the dragons, too.

Dimitri feels rather than sees his own scales erupt from under his skin, but he does see the glinting of sea green that constellates Felix’s shoulders like the stars that could lead him home, and he puts his teeth to them, fills his mouth with Felix’s blood scent. His claws, he buries in the meat of Felix’s thighs, drawing a groan from his beloved’s red mouth, wet with want as Felix nips at his jaw, seeking to draw blood, too, never one to be left behind in anything Dimitri does.

And the want is terrifying. He wants to devour all of Felix’s beauty, given to him this freely. The way the delicate skin that stretches across his collarbones parts so neatly under Dimitri’s teeth raking across them, the white bone of Felix’s ribs almost lewd as he arches under Dimitri’s greedy claws, writhing for more. The violence of Felix’s mouth, always so sharp with his words, now formed around the harsh intake of breath as he tears a chunk from Dimitri’s shoulder. The pain flares red hot, mutes to an ache that beats along with the thunder of his heart, a throbbing that goes all the way to Dimitri’s cock, hard as iron now.

“Easy, beloved, there is more,” Dimitri growls, pressing his mouth to Felix’s neck as he swallows, the marvelous feel of Felix’s throat working as he takes in parts of Dimitri deep into himself. How he wants to give Felix everything he wants; how he wants to take everything of Felix, too.

Dimitri wishes so much that he could taste, but the smell, the feel — Felix grows wet under him, the silks of his skirt torn away as Dimitri slowly sinks his teeth into Felix’s thighs parted so willingly for him. There is a certainty to this, Dimitri thinks, thoughts caught in the delicious trap of Felix’s legs, that there will always be more of Felix no matter how much he gives. He presses a chaste kiss to the inside of the leg, Felix shaking and panting against the pleasure and the pain, and opens his mouth to savage the softest of meat there. It tears away, a glossy line of vein and blood trailing from his mouth like spit from a lover’s kiss, and Dimitri’s chest aches with how perfect Felix is for him.

“You have them all fooled,” Felix hisses, eyes screwed shut, tears leaking in earnest now. His claws are silver daggers, dragging down Dimitri’s chest, thin red lines that will leave scars that Dimitri knows he will tend to with love.

“I would say, instead,” Dimitri murmurs around the mouthful as he strokes down the ladder of Felix’s ribs, some already healing over with brilliant scales, some still cracked to show the intimate curve of Felix’s beating heart; and lower still, Dimitri knows, the tempting glistening loop of his guts. Every part of him lovely. “I would say, Felix, that you perhaps were the one that had them fooled, with how you had a beast inside you that loved another beast, also.”

“That mouth of yours,” Felix moans, head thrown back. His legs wrap around Dimitri’s waist, a command for his king.

The snarl comes deep from Dimitri’s throat, primal. “ _Yes_ , mine, and yours.”

Dimitri presses Felix into the sheets, cock rubbing into the raw wound of Felix’s thigh as he presses his mouth to Felix’s jaw, working him open both ways. Felix’s chest heaves as he growls a noise a thousand years old, lips parting as Dimitri tongues his own meat back into Felix’s mouth. He watches what he can, unwilling to look away from this: tears dotting Felix’s lashes as he swallows again, long dark hair alreading tangled against the linens of their wedding bed, the dark slash of his blood smeared across his heaving chest already painted with the dark red of Dimitri’s own. His cock dripping on it all as Dimitri palms him between their bodies, mesmerised by how his hand is almost big enough to hold all of it; leaves a fresh pattern of blood as he fists Felix’s cock tight and fast.

Felix digs his heels into Dimitri’s back. “ _More_ ,” another command, and how can Dimitri deny him.

It is such that the nature of dragons is unknown to their descendants, their blood diluted into a strangeness when it mixes with that of man. However, the books of the shadow library all concluded the same: to be blessed by a dragon was to be blessed with long years of life and a strength to last trials beyond what a normal man can withstand. Dragons can sleep for a thousand years; dragons can die and through the strength of their blood, they can rise again.

“What does that even _mean_.” Felix, still hoarse. His throat is only just healing from when Dimitri had sunk his teeth too deep, torn the delicate muscle. 

A flutter of shame, at that. He is still this much of a beast, even when Felix has given him the same, and it is his own fault if he could only pull strained gasps from Felix as he had fucked into his raw holes, instead of the shape of his name from Felix’s mouth.

Their wedding bed is filthy, but Dimitri cannot find it in him to mind, not when Felix is curled up against him, the loose ends of his ribs still poking at his chest. 

“Perhaps it means that we should rest to gather our strength for the morrow, when they start the feast of seven days.” 

Felix grunts in annoyance. Dimitri cannot help but smile and press a kiss to the blood-matted hair at the crown of his head. It will be a pleasure to help Felix bathe, to wash the filth from his long hair. Kneel for his consort and offer Felix his own fealty.

“Whatever nonsense you deem fit to fill your head with,” Felix shifts, a sharp shoulder nudging against Dimitri, but it is only human skin now and not some other strange trait, the heat of their marriage bed abated, “I suppose this is what I have agreed to, afterall.”

He is gentle as he tips Felix’s chin, have him look up — and yes, there, Felix’s eyes glow amber and dangerous, the pupils slit almost cat-like. Dimitri hums. “And perhaps it is me who has found something strange in my bed tonight.”

A hiss in reply; Felix’s needle teeth puncturing the skin right above his heart. Blood trickles down Dimitri’s chest and the ache of it just thrills something heady and feral through him. He wraps hands around Felix’s hips, letting him have his fill.

Joined in blood until the world’s end, and Dimitri means it.

**Author's Note:**

> What _is_ the difference between consume and consummation.
> 
> Happy Dimilixmas!


End file.
